


No sense keeping secrets from yourself

by unnieunnie



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Chencest, M/M, Mentions of even more dubcon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, THE CONSENT IS VERY DUBIOUS, The one thing going for this is that I didn't use spit for lube, Unhealthy boning, dub con, dubcon, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:56:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21721378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unnieunnie/pseuds/unnieunnie
Summary: Jongdae rounds a corner and finds Chën alone.Everything that follows is Baekhyun's fault.
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Jongdae | Chen
Comments: 13
Kudos: 101
Collections: Down to Business





	No sense keeping secrets from yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Sort-of a sequel to Ain't no love like self-love (https://archiveofourown.org/works/21479557)
> 
> \---------------

Fucking Baekhyun. Everybody knew – intimately (was glad) – that Baekhyun was DTF pretty much all the time, but with his own double?

Fucking his own double’s face like that, both of them making the same fucking noises, the way they smiled at each other after with the same lazy smile.

It was just wrong.

Which hadn’t stopped Jongdae from beating off to the memory every day since. He didn’t tell anybody, because god, if there was one thing they had to avoid, it was getting any more of themselves pulled from the field. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it, and thinking about it made lust crawl through his guts, until he couldn’t take it anymore, and then he felt weird and gross afterward.

So it was definitely Baekhyun’s fault when he was chasing his own double (at least he had his own name, for one less layer of confusion) through a recently abandoned building, and Jongdae discovered himself to be slightly aroused.

Dammit.

Which therefore made it also Baekhyun’s fault when Jongdae rounded a corner to find Chën in a dead end, panting, knife in one hand, and Chën’s eyes dipped, and he saw.

“Your eyebrows always give you away,” everybody said.

Chën’s eyebrows raised up, then one of them arched, and the tip of his tongue darted out to lick one of the hoops in his bottom lip.

“I wondered,” Chën drawled, “when our Baek said what happened, whether I’d get the chance to taste you.”

Here was the thing: Jongdae _loved_ wrong. Oh, nobody currently on the squad had any idea, he was their sunny little choirboy, careful to ensure everybody got off how they wanted.

But there was no point in hiding from this version of himself, so obvious with his piercings, the way one hand tugged the chain dangling from his ear.

Jongdae rushed him, knocked the knife away with his rifle butt, crushed Chën against the wall. Chën’s pale eyes went wide, and the warmth of his body made Jongdae hungry.

“The fuck makes you think you deserve to _taste_ me,” he growled.

He shoved his leg between Chën’s thighs. Chën gasped, sagged. He tipped his head back and bared his neck.

Yeah. There it was.

Jongdae placed his hand around that neck, squeezed just this side of not-enough. Chën gave the briefest flit of a smile.

He didn’t submit, though. That would ruin the fun. The fight was swift, silent, brutal. At the end of it, when Chën licked it was to taste the blood on his mouth.

“You will take it,” Jongdae said.

Chën laughed.

“No, you’ll take it,” he said, “and I won’t say no.”

This time, Jongdae licked the blood off Chën’s lip, bit the bloody spot until Chën hissed and squirmed against him.

“Give it up,” Jongdae said. “I know you have one.”

Chën glowered but dug in his pockets, making sure to grind against Jongdae’s groin, before he held up two foil packets.

Had to get them from medical. Let the doubles be up in each other’s business, his side didn’t need to know.

With his free hand, Jongdae yanked Chën’s belt off.

“You gonna be good for me?”

“No.”

Of course not.

“Strip.”

Chën’s jaw clenched. He made a show of it until his chest was bare, and Jongdae took him by the neck again.

“Tell me some things,” he said, one hand fumbling with his own fly while the other held Chën. “Your guys know you’re like this?”

Chën laughed once, ugly. But he stepped out of his pants.

“Yeah.”

“You have guys missing from your squad?”

Wariness made Chën’s eyes narrow.

“Yes.”

Jongdae leaned in to bite Chën’s shoulder, hard enough to bruise and make Chën gasp. He stepped back, pushed Chën down, one hand pressing his back so Chën had to struggle not to smack his face into the floor.

“I wonder what you let them do to you,” Jongdae mused as he ripped a corner off the lube packet and breached Chën without preamble, inspiring a hiss and flinch.

“My squad thinks I’m the sweet one,” he said, worming his finger around until the first instant he thought a second would do.

Chën looked back, that lovely, bloody mouth a moue of disbelief. Jongdae smacked his ass with his free hand and watched Chën’s eyelids flutter. Spread his fingers, added another.

“It’s the others. The ones who’re gone,” Jongdae said.

Because what better confessor was there than one’s own shadow self?

He sheathed his dick and buried it in Chën’s ass to a very satisfactory high-pitched cry.

“I belonged to them,” Jongdae said.

He moved, rough and steady, just like his voice.

“That was the agreement. Anytime, anywhere. They’d come up behind me in hallways, cover my eyes and hold me down, and I never even knew which of them it was, or how many.”

“God,” Chën panted.

Jongdae wondered whether this was what he had looked like, prone in front of them, wailing his pleasure, narrow back and straight shoulders, hair that invited pulling.

He pulled Chën’s hair, dug his fingers into Chën’s shoulder the way he himself liked. Felt how Chën rocked back into his thrusts. Heard the way Chën kept trying to hold his breath.

“Fuckers in command took them away from me,” Jongdae said.

“Ours too,” Chën said.

“Not sure why we fight each other anymore.”

Jongdae grabbed Chën’s dick, pulled roughly.

“Me neither,” Chën gasped.

“You come now,” Jongdae said.

Chën did as he was told, trying to rise up on his toes and shouting, the squeeze of him enough to send Jongdae over, silent as he always was, now.

Only people he belonged to could hear him.

Chën turned over, smudges on his forearms and knees, lip still bloody, pale eyes blown but calculating.

“Maybe we can make an agreement,” he said.

Jongdae looked at his body’s double, wiry and freckled, shining with sweat. Those hands would know how to hold him down.

“Maybe so,” he said.


End file.
